THE GOLDEN ARM.
Once 'pon a time dey wuz a monsus mean man, en he live 'way out in de
prairie all 'lone by hisself, 'cep'n he had a wife. En bimeby she died,
en he tuck en toted her way out dah in de prairie en buried her. Well,
she had a golden arm--all solid gold, fum de shoulder down. He wuz
pow'ful mean--pow'ful; en dat night he couldn't sleep, Gaze he want dat
golden arm so bad.
When it come midnight he couldn't stan' it no mo'; so he git up, he did,
en tuck his lantern en shoved out thoo de storm en dug her up en got de
golden arm; en he bent his head down 'gin de win', en plowed en plowed en
plowed thoo de snow. Den all on a sudden he stop (make a considerable
pause here, and look startled, and take a listening attitude) en say:
"My LAN', what's dat!"
En he listen--en listen--en de win' say (set your teeth together and
imitate the wailing and wheezing singsong of the wind), "Bzzz-z-zzz"
--en den, way back yonder whah de grave is, he hear a voice! he hear a
voice all mix' up in de win' can't hardly tell 'em 'part--"Bzzz-zzz
--W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n arm?--zzz--zzz--W-h-o g-o-t m-y
g-o-l-d-e-n arm!" (You must begin to shiver violently now.)
En he begin to shiver en shake, en say, "Oh, my! OH, my lan'!" en de
win' blow de lantern out, en de snow en sleet blow in his face en mos'
choke him, en he start a-plowin' knee-deep towards home mos' dead, he so
sk'yerd--en pooty soon he hear de voice agin, en (pause) it 'us comin'
after him! "Bzzz--zzz--zzz--W-h-o--g-o-t m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n--arm?"
When he git to de pasture he hear it agin closter now, en a-comin'!
--a-comin' back dah in de dark en de storm--(repeat the wind and the
voice). When he git to de house he rush up-stairs en jump in de bed en
kiver up, head and years, en lay dah shiverin' en shakin'--en den way out
dah he hear it agin!--en a-comin'! En bimeby he hear (pause--awed,
listening attitude)--pat--pat--pat--hit's acomin' up-stairs! Den he
hear de latch, en he know it's in de room!
Den pooty soon he know it's a-stannin' by de bed! (Pause.) Den--he know
it's a-bendin' down over him--en he cain't skasely git his breath! Den
--den--he seem to feel someth' n c-o-l-d, right down 'most agin his head!
(Pause.)
Den de voice say, right at his year--"W-h-o g-o-t--m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n
arm?" (You must wail it out very plaintively and accusingly; then you
stare steadily and impressively into the face of the farthest-gone
auditor--a girl, preferably--and let that awe-inspiring pause begin to
build itself in the deep hush. When it has reached exactly the right
length, jump suddenly at that girl and yell, "You've got it!")
If you've got the pause right, she'll fetch a dear little yelp and spring
right out of her shoes. But you must get the pause right; and you will
find it the most troublesome and aggravating and uncertain thing you ever
undertook.
(from Mark Twain's How to Tell a Story, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3250/3250.txt )